


hell isn't other people, it's when the people are gone and you have to clean up

by pilynator



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Gender Neutral MC - Freeform, Implied Sexual Content, just a bit of s p i c e, just all around soft goodness really, to season the fluff, vanderwood is the spectre that haunts europe, you pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 13:17:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15864390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pilynator/pseuds/pilynator
Summary: Neither of you are fond of cleaning, but Saeran is quickly learning ways to force you into it. Midnight adventures in trying to focus while being nerds, featuring Saeyoung and MC.For a prompt sent in on Tumblr -“It’s just you and me.” for Saeyoung. Enjoy your fic, anon!





	hell isn't other people, it's when the people are gone and you have to clean up

The last of the guests had waddled out of the bunker – Yoosung and Zen waving goodbye, in various states of dishevelment – and the contrast between the sharp night air and the warmth emanating from the house was raising goosebumps on your skin. Behind you, you heard Saeyoung’s spine popping into place and the soft rustling of his hoodie as he stretched and yawned. There was a brief pause and the smallest squeak as you instinctively reached out behind you to catch the balloon midair.

‘Aww,’ he pouted, ‘you’re no fun!’

You stuck your tongue out playfully, throwing the balloon back at him. It lost momentum quickly and floated gently to the floor, where Saeyoung kicked it against a wall.

‘You’ll never get me like that,’ he said, but there was no challenge in there, just the warm, sleepy afterglow of the party casting shadows under his eyes. He seemed content with simply grabbing another balloon from the ceiling and waving you over from your spot at the door. ‘Come inside, you’ll catch a cold like that.’

You obliged, making sure to first check that Zen and Yoosung were safely inside their taxi, and half-walked half-collapsed into Saeyoung’s arms. Through the haze of exhaustion, you felt him rubbing the balloon against your hair. You didn’t have to ask what he was doing, the muffled laugh coming from somewhere above you was enough indication of where his attention was at the moment.

‘Hey, cat prince, I know I’m electrifying, but can you stop playing with the static? You’re messing up my hair.’

The motion stopped, but the balloon didn’t leave its spot. If you focused on it, you could almost hear the faint sound of your hair sticking and moving against its surface.

‘Babe, I can’t, you know how magnetic you are.’

He sounded serious. Too serious. You felt the prickling sensation of a premonition worm its way into the pit of your stomach, and it wasn’t just the static electricity firing up your – feeble, exhausted – synapses.

 _Oh no,_ you realised, _he’s not going to say what I think he’s going to say, is he?_

Saeyoung gave the top of your head a nudge with his own chin, radiating smugness. He was _absolutely_ going for it.

‘You’re just inescapable, you know? I just can’t help rubb –‘

Saeran’s cough was incredibly loud, incredibly disapproving, and incredibly welcome, or else you might have died of embarrassment on the spot. Then, the realisation that he’d just caught the two of you hugging and swaying gently in the middle of a dark room hit in full and you wondered if there was still time to melt into the floor.

‘What are you two doing?’

Saeran sounded equal parts suspicious and panicky. You felt a pang of sympathy. Listening in on Saeyoung’s flirting tended to have that effect on people.

‘Ah, that.’ Your fiancé had loosened his grip around your waist long enough to turn around and meet his brother’s glare. ‘Sorry, we were just seeing Yoosung and Zen off. You know, making sure they got in that taxi alright.’

‘Yoosung was a bit tipsy,’ you supplied helpfully. By this point, you’d managed to stand on your tip toes, just high enough that you could peek at Saeran’s tense form by the stairs. He looked like he always did, an agitated bundle of nerves, ready to take flight at the earliest sign of trouble. A slight shadow of guilt was beginning to grow in you at that. He _had_ looked like he’d been enjoying himself, or as much as he was able to enjoy gatherings of less than or more than three people (and even that was fraught with difficulties). Now, seeing his distress, you were beginning to wonder about that.

Saeran scoffed dismissively.

‘Yeah, I’ve _noticed_.’ There was a sharp sting to the way he worded that, snarling slightly towards the end. Alcohol had been another point of contention. The RFA had been willing to give it up if it meant he’d join in and Saeran had, unexpectedly, relented and agreed to everything on the condition that there wouldn’t be a lot of it.

Saeyoung had privately confided that his brother had been shocked that anyone would make the effort for him. However, Yoosung’s state had send him straight for his room in the latter half of the night and you were beginning to feel like it had been too much to start with.

‘Yoosung’s just a lightweight,’ Saeyoung said. His voice had dropped to that soothing tone he only used when he was being completely serious. The reverberations in his chest were lulling you to sleep, but you struggled onwards, brave (and awake!) to the very end. Saeran deserved to be seen off properly. ‘I know it doesn’t make it better, but he didn’t mean anything by it.’

‘Yes, well,’ Saeran sounded pacified, if a little high strung, ‘tell him to watch it next time. I don’t like being around him when he’s like that.’

The implication that he did enjoy being around Yoosung at any other point didn’t escape you. You hoped Saeyoung had noticed it too. He was normally so attentive to his brother’s moods, but these little glimmers of normalcy tended to be swept up in his anxieties and discarded as wishful thinking. Instinctively, you reached tugged on the hem of his shirt to get his attention, and Saeyoung dropped the balloon to grab at one of your hands with his.

Saeran had noticed the movement. He made to go up the stairs, eager to evacuate the room in case any PDA would now commence.

‘Then tell him I said he’s not invited next time if he’s going to be like this.’

‘Next time, yes,’ Saeyoung’s voice was level, but his grip on you was iron. You could feel his frantic heartbeat against your cheek. ‘I’ll make sure to tell him that next time.’ He was saying _next time_ – repetitively, obsessively – but he might as well have been announcing the introduction of a cat for the next Pope. It was _joyful_ ; any hint of Saeran enjoying something was enough to send him into overdrive.

‘Okay, as long as he knows,’ Saeran said, and covered half the distance between the bottom of the stairs and the first-floor landing in two large jumps. It was startling watching him or Saeyoung trying to get away. They had a jerky way of moving that seemed like it should trip them up but never did. It was never a straight line, though, almost like they were dodging something.

Saeran stopped half-way up the stairs for a moment and bent his knees so he could poke his head at the two of you.

‘Hey, this wasn’t –‘ he stuttered a little, trying to force the words out ‘– terrible, but I want this place to be clean by tomorrow. It’s your party. Besides,’ he started, then stopped. The smirk that suddenly popped into view was eerily similar to some of Saeyoung’s expressions, except sharper. Predatory instead of teasing. This…did not bode well. ‘Well, I don’t think Vanderwood will be too pleased with the state of the house when he comes in tomorrow, will he?’

That wolfish grin seemed to grow three times in size and you didn’t have to look up to know that Saeyoung was currently _very preoccupied_.

‘Good night,’ Saeran quipped before disappearing from view with one final jump. As soon as he was gone, you grabbed the sides of Saeyoung’s face and stared him down.

‘Babe,’ you whined, ‘babe, Saeran’s right. I forgot Vanderwood’s visiting.’

‘It’s alright, I can handle the madam, don’t you worry about it.’ He didn’t sound _too_ convinced, though, and tried giving your shoulder a comforting pat. It was too hesitant for that, weak and unfocused. The smell of disaster loomed in the air.

‘He’s going to flip his shit,’ you said with all the conviction you could muster. ‘He’s absolutely going to lose it.’

‘Yes, but when _doesn’t_ he do that?’

It was true. Somewhat. Still, it did nothing to quiet the mild feeling of dread in your stomach.

‘Listen,’ you tried to reason, ‘let’s just clean some of this up, show him we tried. It’s late and I want to sleep in tomorrow. I can’t think of anything less conductive to sleep than Vanderwood vacuuming and cussing us out.’ Your expression darkened for a moment. ‘And you know he has no problem walking in the bedroom if he’s angry.’

‘But it’s so _laaate_!’ Now it was his turn to whine. It swelled in intensity the more it looked like you weren’t willing to compromise on this. ‘Can’t we just…pretend we forgot?’

‘Saeran will just snitch on us,’ you said. It was true, the two had taken a shine to each other. It was the way they didn’t seem to have any patience for Saeyoung’s more outlandish traits and their common passion for keeping things organised. On the one hand, it was nice to see Saeran making some friends on his own, but you were pretty sure he’d finally figured out he could use Vanderwood as proxy punishment whenever he wasn’t happy with the two of you. It was…stressful, to say the least.

Another whine. Saeyoung was fully pouting now.

‘Oh, alright.’ He didn’t sound too upset, but the note of resignation in that was unmistakable. ‘We can just shove everything in a closet somewhere. If he opens it up, that’s his little problem to deal with. Actually,’ Saeyoung perked up a little at that, ‘let’s put a _do not open_ sign on it, you know he can’t help himself. It’ll be funny.’

‘Just admit it – you miss the taser.’

‘Never,’ he said, placing a small kiss on the top of your head. He’d cheered up a bit, which usually meant that cleaning would take about 60% less time than when he was in one of his more childish moods. ‘Alright, let’s mop up all this crap, I don’t want to spend more time on this than I have to.’

It didn’t take long to clear the floor in the living room. Everyone had been well behaved, and all you had to do was collect all the decoration from the walls and do a cursory sweep and mop of the floor. The kitchen, however, was different.

‘Oh no,’ Saeyoung said, echoing your feelings exactly. ‘This pile is endless. Never-ending.’

‘It’s…it’s not that bad!’ You tried to sound optimistic, but the dishes had, in fact, formed a rather massive construction on the side of the sink. ‘I’m sure we can get through it if we work together?’ you tried again.

‘It’s the Tower of Babel, but with plates. An affront to God, that’s what this is,’ he said. He poked the side of your ribs. ‘How did we even get so many plates? There’s three people living here, what’s up with all this?’

‘I brought it in my own set, remember? Because all you had a bowl for chips, a pan and three forks?’ You poked back at him, but he was too fast, dodging your hand and jumping around you before you had a chance to react. He grabbed both of your wrists and brought your hands behind your back.

‘No poking.’ He sounded serious. ‘You know I’m ticklish.’

‘You shouldn’t start wars you don’t intend to finish,’ you said trying to get out of his grip. It wasn’t too tight, but Saeyoung was moving around too much for your wriggling to be effective. He very quickly had you backed up against the counter, on the plate-free side.

‘You shouldn’t start wars at all,’ he said, wisely, didactically. ‘War is bad.’

You rolled your eyes at him. It felt good, even if he couldn’t see it.

‘Yes, okay, thank you, Mother Theresa, can you let go now so we can clean some of this mess up?’ You gave another wriggle, but your heart wasn’t into it. Truth be told, all you wanted to do was go to sleep, but the possible return of the taser was a strong motivator.

Saeyoung didn’t give any indication that he was willing to let you go and instead took the opportunity to lean over so you were both collapsed on the countertop. You took the worst of it, planted firmly on the cold surface and hair sticking to the side of your face, while Saeyoung was busy nestling his head in the crook of your neck and whining again.

‘Mother Theresa believed in suffering, so really, you’re her and I’m just a poor fool who wants to sleep,’ he said, matter-of-factly. You tried headbutting him, but it only worked halfway, and you ended up meekly bumping the side of your forehead against his. It was comfortable. Warm. You didn’t want to admit it, but he was winning you over with his laziness.

You spent some time like that, laying down and hoping against all hope that a magical dish washing gremlin would do your job for you. When Saeyoung finally spoke up again, there was something teasing sneaking its way into his voice.

‘We’re alone now,’ he said. When you didn’t acknowledge this, he leaned in closer to your ear and dropped his voice to barely above a whisper. ‘It’s just you and me. We can do whatever we want. No one will know.’ You tried not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, but it was proving to be difficult.

‘Saeyoung Choi,’ you said, putting as much authority as you could in your words even if your willpower was starting to waver, ‘I’m not going to do _anything_ on top of a pile of unwashed dishes.’

‘Ah, well, that’s great then.’ He found a patch of sensitive skin where your collarbones met your shoulder and started sucking on it. ‘Because the dishes are on the other side of the room, so we’re not,’ he punctuated that with an experimental bite, ‘doing _anything_ on top of them.’ When you still (bravely! stubbornly!) refused to make a sound, he raised his head, trying to get a better view of your face. ‘Hey, are you okay?’

‘I’m a weak person,’ you said. ‘All I want to do is sleep and eat and spend time with you, but here I am, making an effort to not be that person and you’re sabotaging me.’ You took advantage of his worry to kick him weakly in the shin. ‘You’re a saboteur and a scoundrel. I’m taking you to court.’

Saeyoung giggled and gently plopped back down on top of you. This time, you didn’t make any move to push him off and accepted your fate as a permanent fixture in the kitchen’s landscape. Vanderwood would just have to scrape you off the furniture, because by this point you were too comfortable to fight the sickly stupor you found yourself in.

‘I’m your scoundrel, though,’ he said, and you couldn’t exactly fight him on that. ‘I’ll cut you a deal, special discount for black market customers. We can just wash the easiest things, okay? The glasses and cutlery and all that. We can spread them out, so if Vanderwood complains we’ll just say that we needed to dry those out first.’

That sounded reasonable and actionable and like an all-around good idea. You frowned.

 ‘That’s…that could work, yeah. Why didn’t you open with that?’

He made some gurgling noises that you’d learned meant Saeyoung was too tired to talk. Eventually, he regained control over his higher brain functions.

‘I didn’t want to do any work?’ he suggested.

There was a pause.

‘I don’t know what you expected.’

‘I don’t know what I expected either,’ you sighed. ‘I also don’t want to do any work, but what I _do_ want is to spend my Sunday morning in bed, not running around trying to keep Vanderwood calm.’

‘In bed you say~’ You could practically hear the excitement.

‘Did you just say a tilde out loud?’

Saeyoung had already stood up and was making his way towards the sink with renewed energy. It really didn’t take a lot to motivate him, you found yourself musing.

‘Yep.’

You took your position by his side, towel in hand, ready to give everything a decent chance being dry by the next day. With a little bit of luck, you could avoid the dreadful fate of waking up early. Or, rather, the fate of getting out of bed early. You sneaked a glance at Saeyoung’s face, who seemed just as exhilarated by the prospect as you were.

‘How did you do that?’

‘Do what?’

‘The tilde thing.’

Saeyoung let his hand hover just a second too long next to yours when he handed over the first fork for drying.

‘I could teach you if you want. But,’ he grabbed at the next piece of cutlery and started scrubbing vigorously, ‘it’ll take time. A long time, the longest you can think of. And practice. Are you free tomorrow morning?’

The actual worst saboteur, you thought, but he was yours. You flicked some water at him and enjoyed his offended sputtering.

‘I’ll pencil it in my schedule.’

‘Mean.’


End file.
